Shots of Life
by BrambleclawIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: My new series of one-shots that explore every topic that I think to write about. First one is about Gavner, enjoy! :
1. Choices

**(A/N) This is my first in a series of one-shots that will revolve around everything I feel like writing about. This one is about Gavner and some choices he has to make, and the difference it makes to everyone. Enjoy.**

_**1: Choices**_

"Crepsley, cover me form the left! Arra, from the right!" Gavner Purl launched himself into the battle, swinging with his heavy broadsword at whoever got in his way. He was heading for the commander at the far end of the tunnel; Larten and Arra, his best friends, were flanking him on either side, taking out who they could and protecting Gavner from side and back assaults.

The faces, the flesh, the sword, the blood; it all flashed in front of him like a dream. Gavner felt oddly detached, like he wasn't really where he was, it was all just like an amazing dream. He needed this, this was his moment to shine. He knew he wasn't as smart as Larten when strategy came to mind, and he wasn't as fast as Arra, but he could fight, and he could kill.

Larten was Gavner's best friend and well on his way to being a prince because of all he'd done, and mostly because of his glorious success in eliminating almost thirty pods of Vampaneze warriors. Arra was a high ranking general, respected and sent out of missions because of her amazing strength and fighting skills. That's why Gavner needed this, he needed to kill this general, so he would finally been seen as more than just an average general and instead be seen as an asset to the clan.

Adrenaline picked up in his vampire veins, he slashed his sword diagonal, bringing down a large male Vampaneze with a huge scissoring cut to his torso. He was closing in, but from the corner of his eyes he could see the rest of the vampire clan breaking through the ranks and charging to where the head of the Vampaneze army stood, hacking away vampires like a lumberjack would fell trees. Gavner forced his flying legs to move even faster, telling himself that he had to beat them there, it was finally his moment.

He was almost there, the rocky tunnel flying behind him in a blur of bloodstained rock and bits of metal, when he heard the horrible scream. Everyone in the tunnel seemed to stop, except for Gavner. He couldn't stop now, he was feet away; as was Vincent Gullmer. He would beat Vincent; he would win and be the victor.

Holding his sword for the first swing, while the Vampaneze was finishing another vampire, he prepared for the life-changing kill.

"GAVNER!" He froze mid-swing, and whirled at the sound of Arra's voice. She stood, surrounded by at least 7 Vampaneze, and she stood over Larten. He was curled around his stomach, a knife in-bedded in his abdomen that gushed blood over his hands and stained the floor ar0und him. Arra was barely holding them off the both of them, and even as Gavner watched her fight, he knew it was a fight she couldn't win.

With one last glance at the huge Vampaneze commander, he sprinted for his friends. Fighting with Arra Sails was not an easy feat, and fighting around a very injured vampire wasn't simple either. But they managed; all seven fell in a matter of minutes, leaving Gavner and Arra to help their friend. Gavner dropped to one knee, and glanced up to see if someone was coming.

He looked up just in time to see Vincent's sword slice through the Commander's neck, which brought up a cheer from all the vampires, including Arrow, the only prince present. Gavner felt anger, and disappointment boil inside of him, but pushed it away as he looked back at his friend, cradled in Arra's arms, spilling blood as she pulled the knife from his stomach.

He wondered if he made the right choice, seeing everything Vincent was getting for doing Gavner's mission. But he knew he made the right choice, he saved his two best friends lives.

So, why did he have this feeling that what he did was wrong? That he'd thrown everything away. Maybe he had. But he couldn't let Larten die.

Could he?


	2. Family

** (A/N) This one is really different. I don't know why I picked Seba, but I've always liked him, so I did. I hope you like it, just remember that I only type and spellcheck it, I never reread, that just makes you second guess yourself. Reviews are really appreciated!**

_**2: Family**_

Seba Nile knew where he stood with the world. He knew his place, and his ambitions. He knew his own personality, and the respect that others had for him. He knew the people he cared about, and the people he could put up with if he had to. He even knew what days the kitchen was cleaning out the older food, so he should go early in the day, and he knew when the ale had sat in the cellar long enough to have a good taste. He knew all the fighting moves, all the weapons, all the great fighters, all the glorious victories for the vampire clan. He knew it all.

But he couldn't remember anything before it. His human life was completely lost to him. Everything after he had been half-blooded was locked into brain forever, but nothing form his human life, save his name, remained. His father's voice, his mother's face, he couldn't recall whether or not he had had any siblings, if he had he couldn't remember.

He knew that all of them where long dead by now, that wasn't what bothered him. It was the ache that not even knowing who they were that killed him. In fact, that was what had been keeping him up recently, like today; he was walking around the halls, nodding at the last remaining vampire who headed to their room as the sun rose higher.

He thought about his family now. Larten was as much of a son as he'd ever have, and he was even close to Darren, as misguided as the young boy was about the world. They were a good family, he loved them both, but he didn't share blood with them. Well, technically he did with Larten, but that was different.

His feet led him down the hallway that held Larten and Darren's rooms, maybe his subconscious was telling him to go there since his thoughts were with them as well. Darren's room was next to Larten's on the end, hidden partially behind a diagonal overhang and a large torch. It was one of the old rooms, but Seba had known that Larten particularly cared for this wing of the building, seeing all the memories he had connected to these rooms and halls. Seba let out a sigh, not knowing what to do for the next six hours of daylight, when he heard voices.

Thinking it was just fatigue and his own imagination acting up, but he heard them again. "You would love it, Annie. Except there are a lot of guys. Maybe if you brought your friend Makayla. But it's beautiful here." It was Darren, but who was Annie?

It certainly wasn't a vampiress, Seba new all of them since there were only about fourteen. He listened to Darren's small voice, barely making it through the wood. "Happy New Year, Annie. I love you, and mom and dad, but I'm goin' to bed now."

Seba's eyes widened, Annie was Darren's sister! His human sister, who according to Larten, Darren hadn't seen in years. Seba stood next to the door, not really knowing what to think when the first emotion hit him. Jealousy.

He was jealous of Darren Shan, Larten's assistant, because he knew his human family. But then he heard something, a shuddering noise. A deep sniff. Darren was crying. Crying over the sister he hadn't seen in years, and probably would never see again.

That was when Seba realized that maybe instead of a curse, not remembering his family was a blessing. They were dead anyway, and even if they weren't he couldn't go see them. He severed every tie he had with them when he chose to be blooded by his master so long ago.

Leaving silently, Seba made it to his room where he collapsed in sleep, his problems gone.


	3. Rite of Passage

**(A/N) My favorite of the three I've written! I have no idea where I got the inspiration, but here it is, I love the finished product! And I hope you do too! Reviews are very much appreciated.**

_**3: Rite of Passage**_

Larten's breathing heaved, his deep and rapid breaths the only sound that rang in his ears. He watched the frozen face of his Vampaneze opponent twist in pain and fury before it froze in a permanent expression that Larten knew would be frozen into his brain forever. The man slumped, supported only by the knife that was still buried deep in his chest. His purple skin paled, and the blood stopped pumping form the horrible wound that had led him to this end.

Larten dropped the handle, but didn't watch the man fall to the ground; he couldn't make his eyes look downward, even as some of the blood from the man's shirt soaked through the toes of his threadbare shoes. The vampire stared at the ground, his breathing slowing down as his muscles relaxed. Had there been more than two Vampaneze when he and Seba had arrived minutes ago, they undoubtedly would have killed him by now, but luck was with him, and so he stood.

"Larten?" Seba's voice came from behind him, and he turned, his expression never changing, only his body moved.

"I killed him." He said slowly, like he had to taste the words to make sure they were the right ones. "He's dead."

Larten raised his eyes to Seba's, unable to read his mentor's expression. Then Seba smiled one of his rare smiles. "Congratulations, Larten." He made the death's touch sign with his hand and placed a hand on his apprentices shoulder. "In celebration, I'll move the bodies and we'll go hunting early."

Larten nodded a short nod, and watched as Seba lifted both Vampaneze and carried them out of the clearing where he would bury them in the soft earth of the forest so deep that no one, human, Vampaneze, or animal would be able to dig them up later. But he didn't think of that; he didn't want to.

He kept seeing that face. The face of the Vampaneze. He saw the face twisted with the fury of a fight, caught in shock when the knife first pierced him, and finally, frozen in the cruel snarl of death as he finally fell. Larten had killed him. He was a killer. Not a murderer, he had a reason, he told himself.

The man was a Vampaneze, the enemy of his clan, and had killed countless humans; he deserved death if anyone did. But even as he thought that, Larten thought something else. That Vampaneze had a name; maybe he had a mate or a mentor. An assistant, as Larten was to Seba. All people who'd never see his face again. Because of one thrust of a knife, and the bloodlust of an inexperienced vampire.

The crunching of the loose twigs told Larten that Seba was returning from the burial. He turned to look, but Seba was already there, holding something in his hands. It was Larten's knife, but now it was clear of the blood, the shiny silver blade no longer stained with the sticky red liquid. He held the handle out to Larten, who grasped it in a shaky, pale hand.

"You did the right Larten," Seba said, seeing Larten's uneasiness. "Think of how many people you have saved."

"I know." Larten took a firm grip on the knife handle. "Do you mind if I don't hunt with you tonight?" He looked down at the blade, and heard Seba's breath tighten in what Larten had come to know as his worried gesture.

"Alright, I will find us something if you can get a fire going by the time I get back, we will cook it." Seba clipped his words together before taking off at a deadly and silent speed into the forest.

Larten waited till he was gone before he dropped the knife, almost feeling like it was burning into his skin, and then he made the fire. His hands moved mechanically, coaxing the flame form the lifeless sticks to light what would have been an amazingly dark summer night now that the moon had completed its cycle through the sky. As he sat waiting for the return of his mentor, Larten reached for the knife, holding it long-ways and supporting it with his palms.

It seemed so simple. Just metal welded to metal. But now it carried so much more than the iron and steel that held it together. It had a life weighing down on it. Larten was tempted to throw it into the nearest tree trunk and leave it there for the rest of eternity. But then he saw a tiny dot of blood on the blade of his knife. One spot that Seba had missed when he cleaned it earlier.

Larten did the only thing he knew to do. He placed his fingers in the death's touch sign. "Even in death may you be triumphant." Paying tribute to the man he had killed eased the pain, but it would be something he wouldn't forget, a gruesome rite of passage into this new life.


	4. Without Reason

Gavner Purl stepped around the body stained war ground. Vampaneze and vampire blood stained the soil red, a color that glowed eerily when lit only by the fingernail moon. It matched the glow on his knife, a dark red stain that he wished he could wipe off, but there wasn't any grass in the vicinity that wasn't already stained with the spoils of war.

Gavner himself had lost some of his own blood hear, a large scar that split his shirt and chest was proof enough of that. He had watched his friends, injured and broken, being carried off the battlefield, but he hadn't had the heart to help them move. The commanding general had given him a knowing look and let him come back to the battleground after seeing Gavner's reaction to the fight.

His first fight to be exact.

He had seen his first fight now. Part of him had died with every purple-skinned demon he had struck down tonight, seeing the life drain form their eyes had been like nothing he had ever seen. Even after Vincent's execution, he had not known that death could be so horrific. So terrifying. So graphic.

He fell to his knees, the tears flowing freely know, and the coppery smell of blood filling his nostrils. "I can't do this." He said, speaking so softly that he wasn't even sure he had spoken aloud. He stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the ground simply because he didn't have the strength to do anything more.

When he finally glanced up, his eyes met something that brought him to his feet. A young boy, no more than fifteen years old was laying on the field, a knife embedded in his stomach, but his eyes still wide open and his teeth pulled back in the cruel defiance of death. Gavner could tell that he wasn't even a full vampire, just half of one, something Gavner had been not too long ago.

He closed the boy's eyes, wondering who would kill someone who obviously had no chance of winning that fight. He wanted to pull the knife from his stomach, but knew that would make it worse, and instead he found himself just sitting next to the boy, thinking of what he might have before he died.

Did he have a family? A girlfriend? Was he going to take the trials soon? What kind of future did he have, had fate been kind and let him live. A thousand questions, but with no answers. Gavner stood, strength flowing back into his body as he turned away from the bloodbath, the moon glowing on his back. He would fight for the nameless boy, and all the others, who never had a chance to live, no matter the personal consequences. Maybe all vampires fought purely for the others who could not, or who had perished trying. He could do this. He would do this.

"Even in death may you be triumphant." He spoke to the bodies that littered the ground, the warriors that would disappear from memory, but hadn't deserved their fate.

(A/N) Yeah, so I haven't written one of theses in forever, so here you go this is about the inspiration that fuels that fire behind violence in the vampire clan. Hope you enjoyed, please read and review, thanks


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